The Space Between
by freerangeegghead
Summary: In which Santana and Rachel struggle with a long distance relationship, juggle careers, motherhood, commitment, Saturn Returns, existential dilemmas and confront their own mortality in the vibrant city of London. Sequel to "In the Loop". Part II of Pezberry Loop/Space/Learning/Opus (LSLO) Series. Title from Dave Matthews Band.Romance, Drama, ANGST. Pezberry. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note: Dear readers, I tried, I really tried, to write a fluffy sequel to "In the Loop" , but I ended up writing this instead. Apologies. I hope this is okay with everyone who stuck with me through the angst that is "In the Loop". Meant to be a companion piece to "In the Loop"**. **This takes place a few years after the events of the previous story.**_

**_Disclaimer: As always, Glee owns the original characters. I own nothing. _**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Santana looks out of the window and into the cloudy early morning London skyline. She is not sure where exactly in London they are, but she can see the sprawling river Thames snaking through a London that is slowly waking up to another gloomy summer morning in July. She can see a vague outline of the city from here –the bridges, the many gray high-rise buildings and that shiny gray, egg-shaped building that Suzie likes very much, the one located near Liverpool Street.

Suzie is still in her room, sleeping away the morning. Santana lets her sleep.

Santana is in Rachel's flat, in Greenwich Village, in southeast London. Rachel has gotten up early and has already left for an early interview with one of the London magazines. Apparently Rachel has been the toast of West End since bagging the lead in a play that Santana had not even heard of and that turned out to be a hit after. Santana is surprised that though the play is a critic's darling, Rachel is okay with the fact that it is not commercially successful. Moreover, Rachel seems to be happy at not having the media attention or financial rewards a popular play accords her. She has however, been making the rounds doing interviews for the BBC radio and TV. She also has interviews with the Times as well as couple of other magazines. Her agent had warned her it was economic suicide to move to London at the height of her career and had tried to have Santana talk her out of it, but Santana did not want to stop her pursuing professional fulfillment in the more highbrow theaters of London.

What surprised Santana is that the play is not even the kind Rachel usually goes for. Rachel Berry is known in Broadway circles as the go-to girl for musical plays. She has starred in Broadway musical productions of "Les Miserables" as Fantine, "Jesus Christ Superstar" as Mary Magdalene, "Phantom of the Opera" as Christine. She even had parts in "Hairspray", "The Producers", "Rent", "Cats" and "Funny Girl". She has been in so many shows that since she and Santana started dating, Santana's goal is not to miss each show.

Some people used to joke that Rachel Berry was the Nicolas Cage of Broadway – her goal in life is to star in every Broadway musical known to man. Santana is not surprised at this: Rachel Berry of course, was known in high school circles as the overachieving geek who was a member of each club imaginable, including, of course, Glee Club. She had also maintained a very impressive grade point average, maintained her various extracurricular activities, while still, as she recalls Rachel saying, being able to keep her then oaf of an ex-boyfriend, Finn Hudson, satisfied. The truth is that Broadway, music and singing, is Rachel's life, will _always_ be her life and she is really most alive when she is on stage, in front of an audience, spotlight on her, as she belts out a famous solo from one of the musicals she stars in. As she so unforgettably said to them in high school, "I need applause!"

And so it was a surprise to everyone, including Santana, when Rachel Berry announced she had accepted an offer in London to star in a little-known play by a little-known playwright in one of the more high-brow, non-commercial theaters in West End. A play that had no one bursting into song, no one suddenly bursting into choreographed, synchronized dancing, no elaborate props, costumes and set designs. What it did have is nudity, profanity, simulated sex and a depressing story that made Santana want to reach for a razor blade and slash her wrists with it. The playwright was an upcoming writer who specialized in angst, existentialism, pathos and nihilism.

Santana remembers the afternoon more than a year before, when Rachel had told her this when she had come home to her and Suzie in California from a break in her schedule in New York. Rachel still stayed in New York, Santana and Suzie still stayed in California. Rachel could not possibly give up the projects that she had lined up on Broadway, while Santana could not possibly leave in the middle of an important HIV/AIDS and human rights lawsuit she was handling, an HIV positive gay man who was refused insurance by the insurance company for not only being gay but also being HIV positive. Santana was also apprehensive about uprooting Suzie, who was seven at the time, and had friends and a whole life in California that she might have difficulty leaving behind if they were to move to New York. They agreed that though a long distance relationship was not the best idea, it seemed the only option. That was three years ago. Three years later, Santana and Suzie are _still_ living in California, Santana has won the lawsuit for her client and Rachel is now living in London.

Rachel had said her move to London is only temporary. She said it is only going to be at the most six months. That was almost a year ago.

If Santana were honest, she knows this move to London, temporary or not, started with a routine medical check-up Rachel had had more than a year ago, that revealed a hemorrhaged throat. "Nothing to worry about," Rachel had told Santana after, when she told her what the results of the check-up were. "I just have to go through this minor operation, make sure my throat is okay. I mean Julie Andrews had the same problem years before and had the same operation," she points out.

Rachel had not been the same since. In fact, though she can still sing and has sung after the operation, months after her recuperation, Rachel has not sung in a major musical. She chose instead to go to London.

Now, Rachel has been in London for almost a year now, and looking at her flat right now, Santana cannot help but think that Rachel seems to have made a comfortable home here in London, like she has no plans to go back to the States anytime soon, like she has every intention of staying.

Santana feels a bit scared by that thought.

The flat is modest, completely furnished. A bookshelf full of books stands to the left of Santana, a Samsung flat screen 3D television across it. In the middle of the living room is a living room set, a couch, loveseat and a glass table where magazines, along with a couple of the free Metro newspaper and London Times lie. The living room has large French windows with transparent curtains that give one a breathtaking view of the city glittering by the shimmering Thames at night. There is a small kitchen beyond the bookshelves, just enough for one, a full-stocked fridge of vegan food, a counter, and a small table good for two. The flat has two rooms, a smaller one where Suzie now sleeps, and the larger one where Rachel and now Santana, sleep. Santana has tried to keep the flat as neat and orderly as possible, but having a ten-year old around is keeping her from doing so. Suzie's clothes are strewn on the couch, on the table, on the floor, a pair of rubber shoes and sandals near the window, socks, a tee shirt, some coloring books, her portable PSP, her mobile phone and some other bric a brac. Santana cannot help but feel, with a twinge akin to pain, that the flat seems devoid of the life Rachel has in the States: her life on Broadway, Santana, Suzie. Only a small, discreet framed photograph of the three of them, stand like a guard on Rachel's bedside table. It is a picture of them on the beach, one summer afternoon when they had taken Suzie out for a walk.

Santana feels a bit sorry that they seem to have invaded Rachel's own little private, personal space. Santana briefly wonders if this is what Rachel feels now, like they have encroached on her space. Rachel does not say anything, but judging from how she seems to always be away on some business or another, Santana cannot help but feel like Rachel is avoiding the chaos that they have turned the house into. Santana notes that they have been sleeping in the same bed since they arrived, but they have not made love since then. Last night, in point of fact, Santana had spent the night on the couch, falling asleep watching some inane British show called "Eastenders" that was followed by "Coronation Street". Rachel had been irritable that night, after a particularly exhausting time at work and she told Santana she had a headache. For some strange reason, this annoys Santana. She used to use that excuse on Puck and the others when she was not in the mood for sex. She could not believe Rachel would use that excuse now. So to avoid being irritated further, Santana leaves the room and spends the night passing time in the living room until she falls asleep.

From the moment they arrive, Rachel seems, if not happy to see them, mostly disappointed, uncomfortable, uncertain about what to do, above all, _distant_ – like they have come and interrupted a peaceful life.

She shakes away the thought. She makes a note to fix the place up before Rachel comes home later this afternoon.

Presently, the doorbell rings. She knows without answering that this is probably Rachel's assistant, Poppy. She rolls her eyes at the idea that Rachel not only has her own assistant, but that her fucking name is _Poppy_. She thinks to herself, who the hell names their child _Poppy? _ She reluctantly leaves the nice peaceful view that the large French windows afford her, and crosses the living room to open the door to the smiling, bespectacled, freckled, red-haired Poppy Knowles (pronounced Nollies, apparently, and not Knowles like Beyonce Knowles). Santana closes her eyes for a moment before she opens the door.

Poppy has been assigned as Santana and Suzie's guide to the city whilst Rachel is away on West End and other business. In truth, Poppy is actually their babysitter, to distract Santana from the fact that Rachel is too busy to actually spend time with them. Poppy was the one who picked Santana and Suzie up from Heathrow airport. Santana and Suzie have been here almost a week now. They have yet to have a normal day spent only with Rachel without her mobile phone, her landline, or her laptop sounding off for some important message or other. Santana thinks she would like to take each one of Rachel's many gadgets and throw them into the river.

It had all seemed perfect then, when Santana was planning it a few months earlier. When, a few months before, they had finally closed the HIV/AIDS human rights case, Santana was finally able to get the vacation she was asking for from the firm. Suzie's summer break was coming up as well. Add to this was the fact that because the firm had won the case and had received a substantial amount of money, Santana was granted a bonus, so she was able to afford a flight to London for both her and Suzie. But when she had called Rachel and announced it, Rachel's reaction seemed less than thrilled. In fact, she seemed distracted, uninterested…kind of like what she is right now.

Poppy now beams as she sees Santana, and cheerfully greets her, "Good morning! You alright? So sorry I'm late, a bit knackered last night. Full house at the theater. Is the little bit up? I bought some Wheatabix, crisps, sweets and some fizzy drinks for the little bit. Do you fancy some coffee or fish and chips or something? I have got a whole day planned for you both that includes seeing the more posh parts of London, see a bit of culture and such."

Of the many things Santana cannot understand about this country it is the fact that they do not seem to speak English. Or that they speak English in a strange, fucked up sort of way. She sometimes feels like she needs everyone subtitled. Case in point: she has not understood a lick of what Poppy has just said.

Fortunately for her, she can fairly guess the general gist of what Poppy is saying.

Rachel, she notes, seems to have picked up on the habit as well, using words that she cannot understand. She seems to have a vague British accent as well.

Poppy hands her a bag that says "Mark's and Spencer's" on it, and she is grateful for the groceries that the bag yields when she opens it. There is a box of cereals, some soda and junk food. Suzie would like that. Poppy heads to the fridge with the rest of the bag of groceries and before Santana could ask what she was doing, Poppy explains she has bought some non-vegan food items for them as well, as Rachel has instructed her. Santana is relieved.

Santana finally figures out what Poppy is saying a few hours later, when Poppy takes them into central London and gives them a tour of the city. Santana is glad for this. They have been cooped up in the flat, recovering from the flight but that was days ago and both had been itching to get out of the house. If Santana were single, she would have gone on by herself, happily losing herself in the London fog, but as she has a child with her, she prefers a much more efficient way of touring the city without getting lost or having to carry a tired child the rest of the way.

As Poppy chatters away nonstop, mouthing trivia about such and such a place, Santana fights the urge to roll her eyes. Suzie does not seem to mind it though, alternating between jumping up and down, squealing, clapping her hands, opening her eyes in wide-eyed wonder, dropping her jaw in awe, or a combination of some or all of the above, as she takes in the sights and wonders of London. It is her first trip out of the States, and she clearly loves it. She enjoys the tour on top of the red bus, long, dark blonde hair flying in the breeze, as the bus rumbles through the streets of London. She remembers a few of the names of the places and sights that they pass by as Poppy calls them out: Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square, Oxford Street, Soho, Westminster, Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, London Bridge, Tower of London, Tower Bridge, Millennium Bridge, London Eye, St. Paul's Cathedral, Fleet Street. Poppy points out where Sweeney Todd used to stalk his victims. She points out where Winston Churchill used to stay as a boy. She points out where Shakespeare allegedly went for beer. She shows where Charles Darwin used to live. Suzie listens attentively to Poppy, seemingly understanding whatever she is saying. For some strange reason, Suzie has turned into an even bigger geek than most of the Glee Club members and Rachel combined. Santana does not know if she should be glad about this or not, but she finds Suzie's nose buried in a book more often than not these days, and is glad that she is her normal, ten-year-old self again, laughing and squealing in delight, like she used to, before Rachel left for London.

Each sight bleeds into the next and Santana feels a bit overwhelmed by how much they see in a day. It is good though. It distracts her from Rachel.

She realizes how much she misses Rachel.

* * *

"_I auditioned for this play by this award-winning playwright," Rachel says._

_It is late evening. They lie naked, half-covered in the semi-darkness of their room, shadows and light playing on their skin. Rachel's head rests on Santana's left shoulder, Santana's left arm possessively wrapped around Rachel's back, her right arm on Rachel's waist. Santana plants a tender kiss on Rachel._

"_Yeah? How did it go?" Santana murmurs into Rachel's hair. Rachel smells sweet and fragrant. Rachel smells like springtime. Santana likes this smell. She inhales the smell._

_Rachel tries to look up at Santana at the same time Santana's head moves, so Rachel's head bumps into Santana's chin. _

"_Ow," Santana says, rubbing her chin. _

"_Sorry," Rachel whispers, giggling. "You okay?"_

"_No. That hurt. I saw my life flash before my eyes…" Santana says. "It was really boring…"_

"_Jerk!" Rachel laughs. "Anything I can do?"_

"_Well, you can kiss and make it better," Santana whispers, voice husky._

_Rachel grins. "I can do that."_

_Rachel leans over and plants a soft kiss on Santana's chin. She then trails kisses up Santana's neck, all the way to the back of her ears, before she kisses Santana's cheeks, forehead, nose and finally meets Santana's lips in a slow, languid, deep kiss. Santana lets out a small satisfied moan of pleasure. Santana is always surprised at how Rachel kisses: sexy and erotic and always full of desire and tenderness for her. Santana gently kisses her back. She rolls them over so that Rachel is on her back and Santana is on top of her. She settles softly into Rachel's curves, starts to press her body into her. She continues to kiss Rachel, starts tracing gentle kisses down her neck, to her chest, and her breasts. Rachel starts moaning, writhing beneath her. Santana can feel Rachel pulsate with warmth and wetness below. Santana feels her own body start throbbing with warmth. Rachel begins to trace slow, lazy circles on Santana's back._

_Santana's left hand begins to tug at Rachel's underwear._

_Rachel then stops. "I thought we were taking a break," she whispers. _

"_What? Are you kidding me right now?" Santana pulls back. "Do you want me to stop?"_

"_No." Rachel laughs. "But, you suggested it. Weren't you worried you'd be too sore and sleepy to get up tomorrow and you wouldn't be able to drive Suzie to school? We overslept last time and Suzie was late for school."_

"_Shit." Santana frowns. "I did say that," she admits._

"_Do you really want to tell the principal that Suzie's late again because we were having awesome sex all night long?" Rachel asks, grinning. "Because I don't."_

_Santana groans. "Damn this long distance!" Santana jokes. "I mean, I hardly see you. Sex all night long is supposed to be one of the perks of our relationship."_

_Rachel laughs again. "Don't worry, I'll make it up to you when you get back tomorrow from dropping off Suzie."_

"_You'd better!" Santana says. "Now what were you saying?"_

"_Audition. You were asking me how it was," Rachel says. _

"_Well, how was it?"_

"_It was great," Rachel says. _

"_So when do I get to see it?"_

"_Well…it's not exactly in New York…"_

"_Yeah? Where is it?"_

"_In London."_

* * *

Presently, they have finished Poppy's tour and are making their way to Trocadero. The place, like everywhere else, is filled with summer tourists. There is a McDonald's near there. Suzie points to the restaurant and they decide they have had enough of sightseeing for the day anyway, and troop towards the restaurant.

There is a long queue, but Suzie does not mind it, so they all wait.

When it is their turn, the person on the counter, South Asian by the looks of it, in a black, collared Tee with a small McDonald's logo on it, and a McDonald's cap, looks at her, tired and bored and mechanically says, "You alright? Can I get your order?"

Santana gets really annoyed when she is asked this question. Does she look like she is not alright?

She starts to order a Quarter Pounder and a Crispy Chicken Salad for herself, and a happy meal for her daughter, when Suzie says, in an embarrassed tone, "Mom, I don't want the Happy Meal. I'm _ten_ mom, not _seven_."

Santana rolls her eyes. _Did puberty come early this year?_ she asks herself. Lately, Suzie has become a bit difficult. "You used to love those. What are you having then?"

"I'll have the veggie burger and a salad and fries and the coke and a chocolate milkshake," Suzie says to the man.

Santana says to herself, _of course_. Of course Suzie would order the one thing that Rachel would approve of. Rachel has been a constant fixture in Suzie's life for three years and Santana admits Rachel has the biggest influence on Suzie. Suzie listens to Rachel more than she does Santana.

Santana suspects one of the reasons why Suzie has been acting a bit differently around her mother lately is she blames Santana for Rachel moving to London more than anything.

As Suzie starts saying her order, indicating that she would like her veggie burger with no mustard, or any such sauce except ketchup, her salad to not have the dressing ("Because dressings are gross," she explains to the man and Santana says, "You are gross" and Suzie rolls her eyes) and fries with no salt, Santana shakes her head. _How had her only daughter turned into Rachel right before her very eyes?_

The man asks, "Fizzy or still?"

"Huh?" Suzie asks.

"Fizzy," Poppy interrupts.

"With ice or without?" the man asks.

"With," Santana says.

When Santana is asked about what she would be drinking, she says she will have water.

"A bottle of water, yeah?" the man confirms, but he says bottle like "bah-eul" and water like "wa-uh" so Santana only looks at him with blank expression.

"Yes, a bottle of water," Poppy supplies from behind. When the man starts asking whether Santana would want to have that fizzy or still, Poppy says, impatiently, "Still, still" and secretly rolls her eyes at Santana. When the man is about to ask something else again, Poppy beats him to it and says, "Eat in, yeah?"

The man nods and punches something into the register.

"You want chips with that, yeah?" the man asks again.

"Chips?" Santana asks, blankly.

"Yes, we'll have the chips," Poppy answers for her.

"Do you want some sauce with that?" the man asks, except he pronounces sauce like it rhymes with "loose" so Santana looks at Poppy again.

"Yes, we'll have the sauce, yeah?" Poppy answers. "Can we have some extra serviettes please?" she asks.

The man nods. He repeats their order, punches the cash register and announces, "That'll be twenty five quid, yeah?"

"Twenty five pounds," Poppy translates, smiling patiently, and a bit condescendingly, Santana notes.

Santana brings out her wallet, and pulls out two twenty pounds. Her wallet holds a small picture of Rachel and Suzie in one of its clear pockets. She instinctively moves her wallet away from Poppy so she does not see the picture. Whilst they have come to a point in time where gays and lesbians enjoy a certain amount of visibility, acceptance and respect in the larger society, Santana knows Rachel's successful theater career hinges on the fact that they be discreet about their relationship. The fact that Santana just recently handled that case of an HIV positive gay man who sued his insurance company for refusing to grant him medical insurance for being HIV positive and gay also reflects the fact that they still have a long way to go. Santana wishes, sometimes, that she can turn off the lawyer in her head.

"Thanks," Santana says to Poppy.

Poppy answers, "No worries. That's fine."

The man quickly assembles the drinks and milkshakes in a tray, screams for the Quarter Pounder, chicken, and veggie burger and informs them their order will take a few minutes.

They make their way to one of the tables. The table has some trays of McDonald's wrappers, leftover chips and sauce. A crew member magically appears out of nowhere to clear the table and wipe it clean. He comes back to sweep the floor as well.

Poppy had ordered one of the sandwiches with a coffee and now seems to be enjoying it. They are quiet until Poppy asks her, "You alright? How do you find your holiday in London so far?"

_God, does this woman ever shut up?_ Santana thinks. If she hears people ask her "You alright?" one more time, she will scream. "It's fine, thanks."

"Brilliant," Poppy says.

One of the crew members come and serve their orders.

There is a silence again, as everyone eats their lunch.

* * *

**_Author's note: Thank you for reading. Kind reviews will be appreciated. Also, I would like to thank those who reviewed "In the Loop", and for the warm response to Suzie, the other characters and the story, premise, plot and themes themselves. It is very much appreciated. And it encouraged me to write this. This will only take a few chapters so you don't have to wait too long for what happens next._**

**_Many thanks to my beta DragonsWillFly who took time off from the Harry Potter verse to go over this chapter. _**

**_On to the next chapter._**


	2. Chapter 2

"So how long are you here for then?" Poppy asks in between bites, chews and swallows.

"Oh I guess just for the summer," Santana answers, not really liking Poppy breaking the peaceful silence. "We'll have to go back after. Suzie has school and I have work."

"Ah, splendid," Poppy says. "What do you do then? I heard you are a lawyer of some sort?"

Santana is a bit annoyed that she keeps asking questions, but since she is on a mission to be nice for Rachel's sake, she answers, "Yes. Human rights. Environmental Law. Stuff like that."

"Oh, wow. Well done!" Poppy says. She takes a sip of her drink. "It's so nice you took a holiday from all that to come visit your friend. So how long have you been mates with Ms. Berry then?"

"Uh," Santana stammers, unsure about answering this particular question. She feels vaguely unhappy that Rachel has not informed her personal assistant about them. "Since high school," she says uncertainly, carefully.

"Wow, that's a long time, isn't it? That must be absolutely fab, being able to keep in touch with your friends like that," she comments, as she pops fries into her mouth. "I haven't kept in touch with friends from school. It must be nice to still have friends from school and such."

"Yeah," Santana says. "It is."

"So have you ever been married, are you going to be married? Will you ever be married?" Poppy continues in a conversational tone.

Santana thinks she wants to grab the wad of tissues on the table, ball it up and stuff it in Poppy's mouth. She wonders whatever happened to that natural British reserve and stiff upper lip…did it just suddenly disappear with the urge to speak proper English?

"She was married once," Suzie says matter-of-factly, butting in. "To my mommy. But now she's with Rachel. So."

Santana feels the warmth creep up from her neck to her cheeks. Suzie continues to eat her veggie burger and fries as if nothing happened. It is nice though to see Poppy finally get flustered as realization hits her. _Rachel forgot to tell our little Poppy we're gay and together, did she?_ Santana says to herself. She cannot help but smirk. Poppy blinks, once, twice, swallows, puts her sandwich down, picks it up again, takes a sip of her drink, puts it down, and is suddenly unable to look Santana in the eye.

"Oh, I'm…I'm sorry to hear that," Poppy says. "I mean sorry to hear that you were married once…and all…I mean divorce is hard…for everyone…Not sorry you're with…Ms. Berry," Poppy says, helplessly.

"Oh, no worries," Suzie says. Santana notes, horrified, that Suzie seems to be picking up British speaking habits as well. "My mommy died. And I guess that doesn't count as cheating if she's gone...mommy said it was okay for her to start seeing other people, so."

Santana's blush stays on her face, as Poppy, disconcerted, says, "Oh, I'm…I'm sorry to hear that."

_Bet you regret opening your little mouth now, don't you, you little bugger?_ Santana says, before she stops herself and realizes she is using a British word, as well. _Oh, crap, no_, she says to herself.

"Rachel is mom's girlfriend," Suzie says again, just to make sure Poppy got it the second time. "Although, mom, girlfriend sounds a bit…epheremal…ephelemar…?" she asks, uncertain. "_Unpermanent_, don't you think?"

Well, Santana thinks, at least she knows she is getting her money's worth with Suzie's school.

"_Impermanent_, honey," Santana corrects her.

"That's what I said!" Suzie says.

Suzie continues, between mouthfuls of vegetables, "They're not married though. I don't understand why they're not. I mean you said you can now get married in half of the States, so it's not like it's going to be hard."

"Yes, all two of them," Santana says, sarcastically.

Suzie ignores her comment. Poppy is still speechless.

"You can just pick and choose one state to get married in, like inny, minny, miney, moe," Suzie says. "I mean, Abuela says, god knows you've been together so long. So why don't you just get hitched?"

Santana clears her throat, face still burning. "Honey, it's not that easy."

"Well, why?" Suzie demands. "You love Rachel. I'm pretty sure Rachel loves you, too. So why?"

Santana swears sometimes that her daughter is so hard to reason with. Law school did not prepare her for this: motherhood and a curious ten-year old with better, simpler argumentative skills than hers. That is the problem though, she realizes – love. And Santana briefly remembers a few moments between her and Rachel when that was brought up…with disastrous results.

"It's just not that easy," Santana says lamely.

"And anyway, Mom, I'd like to say there are many other fishes in the sea, but I've seen you try, and I don't think you should let this one go," Suzie says, before taking a sip of her drink.

Poppy and Santana are both drinking their drinks for something to do and they almost spit them out when Suzie says this.

Santana sputters, "Did you just compare Rachel to a fish?"

Suzie shrugs, "And anyway, Uncle Carlos says you have no game."

"Suzie!" she chides her. Santana stares at her daughter, shocked. "I do, too, have game!"

Suzie smiles and shakes her head, and turns to her veggie burger, all thought of arguing with her mother forgotten in favor of the food in front of her.

Poppy looks back and forth at this exchange, mouth open, unable to speak. She does not speak for the rest of the meal.

A couple of hours later, after which Poppy announces they are taking the tube (_"Tube?"_ Santana thinks to herself, before she realizes that what Poppy meant was taking the subway.), they make their way to the train station. They are about to cross the street when Poppy grabs Santana's arm and pulls her back. Santana is about to explode at Poppy, Lima Heights style, when Poppy points at the car that magically appears out of nowhere, almost missing them by an inch.

Among the other things Santana hates about this city, is the fact that they drive on the wrong side of the road.

"Wanker!" Poppy mutters towards the retreating car.

"The hell?" Santana says in a huff. "Why do you guys drive on the wrong side of the road anyway?"

Poppy shrugs. "Sorry. We're British like that."

In spite of herself, Santana smiles a bit.

* * *

A few tube stops and tube changes later, they arrive at the theater where Rachel currently works.

It is a modest, five-story affair in one of the more posh, less populated parts of central London. The sign in front announces it as the Elizabeth Theater (spelled Theatre) and below it is the title of Rachel's play, "Saturn Returned" with the playwright's name and Rachel and her co-star's name. They enter by the back door, a steel red door that gives way to a tiny, hallway. They make their way up the hallway, and into the stairs.

"Shall we take the lift?" Poppy says. "Ms. Berry's at the fourth floor. She's rehearsing now."

"Lift?" Santana says.

Poppy gestures to the elevator.

"Oh, yeah," Santana says, motioning to Suzie to follow Poppy.

A few minutes later, they are outside the door to the rehearsal room where Rachel is rehearsing for the play. Poppy excuses herself, says she has to go to the office, see about some paperwork. Rachel will be finished in a little while, she says and could they just wait a bit longer? Santana nods.

There is a small square window on the door, and Santana peeks in and sees Rachel and a tall, blonde man with an immaculately manicured blonde goatee, going over the script with her. Suzie is excited, starts to reach for the door, but Santana tries to restrain Suzie, when she sees the blonde man and Rachel step towards each other. The two look at each other, with what Santana sees are meaningful looks, then the man leans over, Rachel tiptoes and their lips meet and kiss halfway through.

Santana knows this is a rehearsal, and they are both probably acting, but she sees Rachel kissing somebody other than her, and she feels a twinge of jealousy in her heart.

Before she can stop Suzie, Suzie has grabbed the door knob, twisted it and pushed the door open to see Rachel kissing the blonde man.

Rachel break away from the kiss as Suzie stops, jaw dropping, as she stares, in shock, at Rachel kissing the blonde man.

"Rachel?" Suzie asks, uncertain.

Rachel is surprised, flustered, but recovers quickly to cross the space between them and says, "Hey, Suzie, sweetie. You're here. You alright?"

The blonde man discreetly steps back and quietly waits for Rachel to give instructions.

Rachel looks back and says, "Let's take five, Paul."

Blonde Paul nods and makes for the door. It takes Santana supreme effort not to kick him in the balls as he steps out of the room. She settles for looking at him in her most intimidating, "I'll-go-Lima-Heights-on-your-ass" stare. It is a stare that so far has worked with the people she has worked with. She notices with a hint of satisfaction that the man seems to have noticed it and has bowed his head, hunched his shoulders, as he leaves.

Rachel has squatted in front of Suzie, as Suzie remains quiet, impassive. "Honey, you okay?" Rachel says, softly, as she puts her hand on the girl's face and runs a finger on her cheek.

Santana closes the door, slowly makes her way to the side of the small room, bare, except for a one table, a couple of chairs, tape on the floor, where they are supposed to move during their blocking, and pictures on the wall. She does not make a move to come nearer, she knows this is between Rachel and Suzie.

She can see Suzie swallow, see the confusion and shock on her face, see the pain, see the tears welling up, before Suzie says, between choked sobs, "Are you leaving us?"

"What?" Rachel says, uncomprehendingly. "No. No. No!" she says, in different tones, disbelief on her face. She looks over at Santana. Santana raises her hands up, shrugs, as if to say, "I'm staying out of this."

Rachel glares at her. Santana gestures again, as if to say, "You deal with this."

"Honey, no, I'm not leaving you guys," Rachel says, softly.

"Then why were you kissing that man?" Suzie demands, tears now flowing down her face.

Santana notes with satisfaction that Rachel now looks positively guilty. Serves her right for wanting to try something else and moving to London! she says to herself. She feels horrible for that thought, knows that she did let Rachel come here because she supported Rachel's need to grow as a performer.

"It was just pretend kissing," Rachel explains. "You know that's what I do for a living, right? I'm an actor. It's what I do."

"Really?" Suzie sniffles. "It was just pretend kissing?"

Rachel nods. "Absolutely. I don't even like that guy. He smells bad." She looks at Santana, shakes her head, as if to say, "That's not true."

Santana rolls her eyes.

"Really?" Suzie laughs. "Then why were you kissing him?"

Rachel sighs. "Because I have to. It's work. Sometimes, you have to do stuff you don't like before you can do stuff you _do_ like. I'm sure your mom has told you that sometimes there are stuff about her work that she doesn't like, too."

"No, she doesn't," Suzie says, quickly. "I think she loves her job. Even the bad parts. She likes screaming at people. I think she loves it too much."

Santana stops, suddenly not liking where this is going. Rachel purses her lips.

"I mean is that why you left?" Suzie asks her now. "Because she works too much? Because she has some free time now…and she seems very unhappy without you."

Santana blushes. Her daughter always seems to be very skilled at the fine art of embarrassing her in front of people when she least expects it.

"Honey, no," Rachel says now, shaking her head. "No, never. That wasn't the reason and you know it. I can't believe you would say that."

"They why are you still here?" Suzie demands, new tears flowing down her cheeks. "You promised you'd be gone only six months….and that was a year ago! You've been gone forever!"

"Oh, honey," Rachel says, after a silence. She moves to hug Suzie. "Don't cry. Please don't cry."

"Don't you like me anymore?" Suzie asks. "Don't you like mom anymore? Did we do something wrong?"

Santana bites her lower lip, unsure about what to do. She feels so out-of-place, like she is invading a very private moment between her girlfriend and her daughter. She moves to step out of the room, silently, as Rachel and Suzie continue to hug for what seems like moments.

As Santana steps out of the room, she hears Rachel whisper something into Suzie's ear, hears Suzie giggle, hears Rachel whisper some more things. Santana looks back and sees Rachel and Suzie, like two co-conspirators, heads bent over, together, like they are plotting world domination or something. Santana feels her heart flutter, feels warmth spreading through it. She would not mind seeing them, Rachel, Suzie, together like this all the time, at school, in the park, at home, anywhere... There is something vaguely intimate and domestic about the scene that Santana wants to just go over there, grab Rachel, and kiss her like there is no tomorrow.

In a few minutes, Suzie is giggling and pretty much like herself again, and Poppy chooses this time to come back from wherever she was, and announce that she is done with work. She and Santana enter the rehearsal room again.

"Good. Sorted," Rachel says. "Do you mind showing Suzie around the theater for a while?"

Poppy, still recovering from the revelation that her boss is not the boring little star she thought she was, moves quickly forward and, not looking at either Rachel and Santana, says, "No, not at all. Would love to. Come Suzie, I'll show you around the theater."

"Cool," Suzie says, following Poppy outside.

The door is discreetly closed behind them.

They stand there awkwardly looking at each other for a few minutes, before Rachel rolls her eyes and moves towards Santana at the same time Santana moves towards her.

They hold each other for a few moments.

"Hey, you," Rachel murmurs into her chest. "You alright?"

"Ugh, why do people keep asking that question?" Santana asks. "Do I look like I'm not alright?"

Rachel pulls back. "It's just an expression, honey. It's like asking someone how they are."

"And while we're on the subject…this…_place!_" Santana says, gesturing vaguely around the room. "Knackered, bollocks, bugger, wanker? What the hell kind of English is that?"

Rachel laughs as Santana continues, "Fish and chips, fizzy drinks, a "– and here she imitates the man at the McDonald's counter at Trocadero – "Ba-eul of wu-uh…"

Rachel continues to laugh.

"I mean seriously, Rach, how can you _stand_ it?" Santana says, "And they drive on the _wrong_ side of the road. Who does that?"

Rachel shrugs. "You get used to it," she says. "And anyway, are you going to just stand there and whine about London or kiss me already?"

Santana frowns at her, before she smiles, leans over and kisses her softly.

"I've missed you," Rachel murmurs into Santana's kiss.

"I've missed you, too," Santana replies.

"I'm sorry about last night," Rachel says. "I was just…tired."

"Yeah, I know," Santana says.

"What is up with Suzie?" Rachel suddenly asks after a beat.

Santana shrugs. "I don't know. Puberty came early this year? I was hoping you could tell me. I think you know her more than I do, anyway. She definitely listens to you more. She's turning more and more into you every day! Today she ordered a veggie burger at McDonald's! It's really weird."

Rachel laughs. "That's my girl."

"Who would have thought I'd actually be raising a kid who'd turn out to be like you," Santana says.

Rachel hits her playfully. "Hey, that's not nice."

"You're turning my child into a freak," Santana teases her. "If she doesn't get laid til she's 30, I'll blame you. It's going to be your fault she dies a virgin."

"Hey," Rachel laughs. "Whatever, I was a geek and I turned out alright."

"That's what I was afraid of!" Santana jokes.

Rachel rolls her eyes, laughs, and joking says, "Whatever, you love me."

Santana stops, feels awkward, steps back and smiles. "This place looks nice."

Rachel's smile drops. She sighs. "Yeah, it is."

They stand there awkwardly looking at each other. Finally, Suzie and Poppy mercifully come back from a tour of the theater.

Later, Poppy takes Santana and Suzie home to Greenwich Village.

* * *

Santana senses Rachel coming home a couple of hours later. She hears the front door open and close quietly, hears her familiar footsteps on the floor, before she hears their bedroom door open.

She rolls over, rubs her eyes, as the light from the hallway slices through the darkness of the bedroom.

"Hey you," Santana says, yawning.

"Hey," Rachel says, "Sorry, did I wake you?"

Santana shakes her head. "No. I was up watching one of those soaps they have on TV, Coronation Street or something."

"Ah, catching up with the British telly, are we?" Rachel asks, coming to sit beside her, as she removes her shoes.

"Stop that," Santana says.

"What?"

"Using telly instead of TV," Santana points out. "Why can't you just be a normal person and use the word TV?"

Rachel laughs. "Sorry. Habit."

"It's okay," Santana says, rolling over to her and putting her arm around her waist. "Did you have a good show?"

Rachel sighs. "Yeah, I did. It was great. Just exhausting, you know, wanting to grow for your art."

Santana snorts, says, "Whatever. You looked like you were having a good time with that blonde jerk you were making out with earlier today."

"Paul?"

"Seriously, Rach, he has the face of a rumpled, unmade bed," Santana says. "And that fucking pretentious goatee? Seriously."

"Paul's gay, honey," Rachel says. "I could walk around naked in front of him and that won't get a rise out of him."

"Besides, there's a name for that you know," Rachel continues. "It's called _acting_."

"Whatever," Santana says. "I still don't like how he looks at you."

Rachel sniffs, scrunches up her nose, shaking her head at Santana. Then she stops, looks at Santana and asks, "Oh, my god, San, are you _jealous_?"

"Um…no," Santana vehemently denies it. "No."

"You are. You totally are."

"No. No I'm not."

Rachel laughs. "You so are."

Santana withdraws her hand from Rachel's waist and rolls over on her back, sulking.

"Baby," Rachel says, coming over and putting an arm on her, "We're just friends."

"Sure?"

Rachel kisses her on the forehead, puts her arm around Santana's stomach, pulls her over and says, "Very."

"Okay. But he should keep it in his pants! Because if he doesn't, I'm totally coming up the stage and shoving his balls down his fucking throat."

Rachel chuckles. "I'd like to see you try."

They lie there in silence, enjoying the moment, Rachel holding Santana, her breath on Santana's neck, her arms around her. Santana covers Rachel's hand on her stomach, twines her fingers with hers.

After a beat, Rachel says, "It's kinda hot that you're jealous."

Santana snorts. "No, it's not. It's embarrassing. What am I, twelve?"

"It's cute," Rachel says. "And sweet. I'm a bit surprised you're jealous actually. You've seen me be kissed a thousand times."

"Not by somebody British and cultured and sophisticated and everything," Santana says.

Rachel hugs her tightly. "Baby, you're the only one for me. I love you."

Santana stops cold, does not know what to say, keeps quiet, nods her head, but squeezes her hand instead, pulls it up her lips and kisses it.

Rachel is quiet for a while. Then she sighs, pulls away from Santana and sits by the edge of the bed. She rests her head on her hands, elbows on her knees.

"What?" Santana asks, moving away.

"You're doing it again," Rachel says.

"What?"

"That," Rachel waves away a hand in Santana's general direction.

"What?" Santana asks again. "I don't understand. What's wrong?"

Rachel sighs, exhausted. "You're doing that thing again, where I tell you 'I love you' and you don't say it back."

Santana stops cold. "Rach…I…"

"I…ugh…I thought coming here to London would help you figure things out, but clearly you haven't," Rachel says, annoyed. "I mean, seriously, San, we've been going out for three years now. Three freaking years, San. And you can't even say it! You freak out. You shut down."

"What are you talking about?" Santana says.

"I mean seriously, what are you afraid of?" Rachel asks.

"Rach…"

"I can't do this, San, if you keep shutting me off like this," Rachel says. "I don't want to wait til you get comfortable with this before you actually say these words."

"What is the big deal?" Santana says, annoyed.

Rachel sighs. Clearly Santana does not get it. She shakes her head.

"And besides, you're the one who kept your illness from me," Santana points out. "You even kept our relationship from _Poppy_. And you decided to go to London without even _consulting_ me. Me, Rachel. We're in a _relationship_, Rachel. I should think what I think should matter in these things. "

"San, we've been through this," Rachel says. "I can't believe you're bringing this up again."

They are quiet. They can hear the ticking of the bedside clock, muffled sounds of other tenants in the other flats moving about, muffled city sounds beyond the flat, cars driving around, late into the night, random shouts, a dog barking. Rachel breaks the quiet.

"I'm tired, Santana," Rachel finally says. "I just want to sleep. Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

Santana raises her eyebrow. "Whatever. Good night."

* * *

**_Author's note: Thanks for reading! Kind reviews are, as always, most welcome._**

**_Also, gosullivan - I don't think you should worry too much. Something good might come out of Santana and Rachel's dilemma. Just stick around and bear with me. _:-) _Again, thanks for your support._**

**_Thanks for DragonsWillFly for help with this chapter. :-)_**


	3. Chapter 3

_It started with the little things._

_An item of clothing left behind after a visit. _

_A pair of shoes left in the closet to be used when the owner comes back for her next visit. _

_A pink toothbrush in the bathroom cupboard in the master bedroom. _

_A few frozen packs of tofu and veggie patties in the freezer…_

_Before Santana knows it, half of the closet left empty so long after Brittany passed away (Brittany herself had started emptying the house of her things when she was still alive, donated most of them to charity to make it easier on Santana and Suzie, she had said) slowly filled with Rachel's clothes, blouses, tees, slacks, jeans and those short skirts that Santana liked seeing her in. Their shoe closet gradually fills with Rachel's clothes as well: sneakers, heels, sandals, flat shoes, flip flops. _

_Before she knows it, there are kitchen implements that are solely for Rachel's use only - a favorite mug (World's Greatest Stepmom – a mug Suzie gave her, a mug whose message Santana did not how to react to), skillets, pans and pots Rachel uses to cook for them. A favorite spot at the dining table, a favorite spot on the couch (near the window, not too near the TV, not too hot or cold, with enough breeze for those days when it is hot, just perfect for conversation and watching TV at the same time), a spot on the bed that Santana used to share with Brittany. _

_Then, the pictures on the mantel, the bedside table and the door of the fridge, begin to fill up with pictures of Rachel and Suzie and Santana at different times during their life: Suzie's birthdays, family reunions in Lima, Ohio, get-togethers with their friends, pictures with Quinn, Sam, Puck and the others. There are pictures of trips to the zoo, to Universal Studios and that photo of that day at the beach when they were walking around collecting sea shells by the sea shore. _

_Santana remembers the first time Suzie calls Rachel "mommy" – she remembers it vaguely as that time when Suzie was delirious with fever and all Suzie wanted was her "Mommy Rachel"._

_Santana notices but casually ignores these things, till one day she looks at her life and she realizes it is a life that now irrevocably has Rachel Berry in it. She is confused by this. Maybe even a little afraid. Rachel is filling up the empty space left by Brittany's passing. But Santana does not know if she wants the emptiness completely filled just yet._

* * *

Santana looks out of the window of their bedroom, sees an exceptionally bright, sunny London sky. She can see tourists and residents enjoying Greenwich Park in the distance, some tourists enjoying the Thames boat tour. She can see pigeons and crows enjoying the park (Why are there so many pigeons in this blasted city? Santana asks herself). They are supposed to go on a museum excursion, courtesy of the trusty, ever reliable Poppy, but Santana is not in the mood for mummies, sarcophagi, pieces of broken tombs, ancient artifacts, Renaissance paintings, stuffed dinosaurs in stupid dioramas, skeleton dinosaurs and fish in aquariums. So she feigns a headache and stomach cramps to get out of it. She notes with annoyance that Poppy seems to be relieved at that, and Suzie does not seem to mind, is positively thrilled that they will get to see museums and aquariums and galleries. Santana already knows, with a note of pleasure, that Suzie will probably wear Poppy out, since she will probably most likely dictate the pace of the tour. Santana is glad for the time alone.

Rachel had left the house long before Santana had woken up, so Santana feels a bit lost. They have not been talking since that night Rachel called Santana out on being unable to tell Rachel she loved her. This was a few nights ago. Santana does not know what is wrong with herself. It should be easy, it _could_ be easy to tell Rachel those three little words and make it better on everyone. She does not know why she freezes up though, every time discussions of love and commitment are brought up. What _is_ she afraid of really?

She glances at the clock on the bedside table and it states that it is not even ten in the morning. She sighs. It is going to be a long, lonely day. She suddenly misses her daughter. The house feels empty without her noise and patter. She decides thus to call home. She calls her family in Lima, talks to her mother, her father, tells them they had a good flight, London is great, Suzie is enjoying the sights, Rachel is fine. The time difference throws her off, it is still early dawn in Ohio, it is mid-morning in London.

"Have you convinced Rachel to come home, _mija?_" her mother asks her sleepily.

"Huh? Um, no, we haven't talked about that. She seems to like it here, and she's very busy with work, so," Santana says.

"_Ay, dios mio_,_mija. _You're a _lawyer_, Santana, you've faced down corporate bullies, made big shots cry, made corporations bleed money, and you can't even convince your own girlfriend to come home?" her mother asks into the phone. She makes a clucking, tsk-tsk sound, as if to chide Santana about her inability to persuade Rachel to come home. "What is wrong with you?"

"_Mami_, it's not that easy," Santana says softly into the phone. She realizes she has been using that excuse a lot lately. She also realizes where Suzie gets her more superior argumentative skills from.

"_Ay, mija_, it _is_ that easy," her mother says. "You either love someone enough to fight for her, or you don't. You've already flown the thousands of miles to see her…what's a little more? I say go for it!"

"But…"

"No buts," Mrs. Lopez interrupts her. "Now let me get back to sleep. I have an early day today."

"Okay, mami," she says. "Love you, _mami_."

"Love you, too," Mrs. Lopez says. "Bye now. "

She hears a click as her mother puts the phone down.

She suddenly misses her family, too.

When she finishes the phone call to her mother, on a whim, she decides to call Quinn as well.

"Hello?"

"Quinn?"

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Quinn? It's me, Santana," Santana says softly into the phone.

"Santana? Do you know what _time_ it is?" Quinn asks, irritation barely concealed in her voice. "It's after four in the morning here and I'm enjoying the first decent sleep I've ever had in ages, and you're probably calling to gloat about how cool London is or something, right?"

"No. Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, no…It's fine. Because all I ever do is stay up all night waiting for a call from you," Quinn says sarcastically.

"Sorry," Santana says again.

"Besides Santana, if you're asking me any more of those Math word problems over the phone for Suzie's homework, I'm not good at that. I already told you that. _Repeatedly._ I barely survived university as it is!" Quinn says, referring to that time when Santana had called her over a Math homework she could not answer herself. "And anyway, you know Sam will be more than happy to answer Math questions for you. And Rachel is the biggest geek we know, I'm pretty sure she'll be able to answer any and all questions you have about fractions, decimals and trying to find x when y is somewhere else or something."

"That's not what I'm calling about," Santana says. "And you're not making sense right now. And anyway, Suzie's off school, so."

"What? Then what did you call me for?" Quinn demands, visibly annoyed. "What do you want? I'm sleepy and cranky."

"I…" Santana says. "It's not going too well."

"What?"

"Rachel and I."

Quinn is silent. She hears Quinn sigh. "Well, I'd like to say I told you so, because it's Rachel _Berry_ we're talking about here, Santana, but, go on…regale me with your tales of woe."

"Quinn, you're not helping…"

Quinn sighs again. "Fine. Let's cut to the chase. You know it's probably your fault right?"

"What? What did _I_ do?"

Quinn laughs. "It's always something you _did_, Santana. Or something you _do_. I mean, yeah, I will be forever mystified by how you guys eventually ended up together…I'd never in a million years imagined it…and though Rachel can sometimes be annoying and overbearing? She isn't the high school Rachel we used to know, and I'm pretty sure you did something that's making her act the way she's acting right now. You probably drove her to go to London."

"You don't even know what's going on."

"I don't need to," Quinn says. "I mean, you were the girl in high school who was sleeping with her best friend for all of high school and couldn't admit she loved her or even come out 'til she was forcibly outed. You were the girl who was acting out all throughout high school because you had too many unexpressed feelings and rage over whatever."

"My god, who _are_ you? My fucking therapist?"

"I'm just saying, Santana," Quinn says. "Doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on."

"I really care for her, Q, but…sometimes…I get overwhelmed…"

"Santana," Quinn says gently, "We've been through this. It's been years. You know it's okay to move on right? This one step forward, two steps back is totally unhealthy, you know that right? And Rachel's not going to wait forever."

Santana sighs. "I know. I do care for her though."

"Then why are you on the phone telling me this?" Quinn asks, testily. "Go tell her."

"How?"

"I don't know. Tell her, sing it to her, I don't care."

"Okay."

"You can sing her that song…" And Quinn starts singing, _"It's a little bit funny…this feeling inside…."_

"Screw you, Quinn. I really hate you right now," Santana says.

Quinn chuckles. "Whatever. You like it." Then, Quinn is serious again, and softly says, "Just tell her, okay? Before it's too late. And let me sleep."

"Okay. Thanks, Q."

"Don't mention it. To anyone," Quinn says. "_Ever._"

She laughs as she hears Quinn say a hasty, sleepy goodbye and hangs up the phone. Santana is all alone by the bed, clock ticking, not knowing what to do.

Finally, she decides to take a walk by the Thames River. She grabs her coat, her keys, her bag, shuts the door behind her and makes her way down the street, heading to the riverside.

* * *

_For some strange reason, Suzie has taken to Rachel like a fish to water. They develop a bond forged by similar interests: the arts, music, dance, reading, overall geeky things. In fact, Rachel lets Suzie borrow the Berry family motto. Rachel introduces Suzie to the books of her childhood, "The Wind in the Willows", "Winnie the Pooh", "Watership Down". Rachel reads Suzie to sleep whenever she is around, makes funny shaped pancakes for her for breakfast, builds blanket forts and snowmen with her._

_It is to Rachel that Suzie runs to when Santana is being difficult. Rachel who convinces Santana to let Suzie have her first sleepover, her first camp out, her first ear piercing. _

_The last one resulted in a big fight between Rachel and Santana when, unknown to Santana, Rachel had gone with Suzie to have her ears pierced. An argument ensued after, when Santana found out Suzie's ears were, in her own words, "mutilated". _

"_I don't get what the big deal is," Rachel says. "And besides, weren't you the one who was into fashion and fashion accessories and all that when we were in high school?"_

"_Yes, but that was a long time ago, it's different now," Santana points out. "I mean you allowed my daughter to be mutilated, Rach. It's barbaric."_

"_Well, she wanted one," Rachel says. "I thought maybe…"_

"_You weren't thinking," Santana snaps, irritably, before she can stop herself. "What, do you think spending a few days with her every now and then means you know how to raise kids now? You're not her mother! And what would you know about raising kids?"_

_Santana regrets these words before the last ones come out of her mouth. She tries to apologize._

_But Rachel does not speak. _

_In fact, she just turns around, grabs her coat and leaves the house. _

_She comes home a few days later and refuses to talk to Santana until she leaves for New York again._

* * *

_Santana decides to call Quinn._

"_I think I've fucked up," Santana begins by way of introduction. _

"_Hello to you, too," Quinn says. "What did you do now?"_

"_What do you mean what did I do now? I don't know...but whatever it is, no one's talking to me."_

"_You know, it's probably your fault, right?"_

"_What did I do?"_

"_Santana, c'mon, we know you, you aren't really the model of tact and restraint."_

"_Shut up."_

"_What, are you taking it out on me now? I'm on your side you know."_

"_Sorry."_

"_Don't apologize to me, apologize to Rachel," Quinn says. "Though I must say that it never gets old…you being with Rachel…it's hilarious!"_

"_Shut up!"_

"_I mean you had to be restrained half of the time all throughout high school whenever Rachel was doing something particularly obnoxious!" Quinn continues, all choked up laughing. _

_Santana waits for the laughter to die down, and when it seems like it is, she says, "Are you done now?"_

"_Okay, okay. Sorry. But you've got to admit it's a little bit funny…like that song," Quinn says, and starts singing, "It's a little bit funny…this feeling inside.."_

"_Ugh, Quinn, I'm never calling you again!"_

_Quinn laughs out loud._

* * *

She wants to apologize to Rachel, she really, really does. But where does she start? And how does she do it? How does she make it all better?

* * *

"_The number of hours that were left in the day was one-third of the number of hours already passed. How many hours were left in the day?" Santana asks into the phone when Rachel answers it._

"_What? What are you talking about?" Rachel asks, groggy with sleep, on the other end of the line._

"_The number of hours that were left in the day was one-third of the number of hours already passed. How many hours were left in the day?" Santana asks again, enunciating each word much more clearly and slowly. _

"_Wha…?" Rachel asks again, as understanding dawns on her. "Suzie has homework I presume?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Honey, do you know what time it is? I just got off work you know."_

"_Yes, I'm aware of that, and I'm really sorry and I'll totally make it up to you when you come home, but I'm kind of lost with this question and I thought calling you would be much better than actually trying to solve it myself." _

_Rachel chuckles. "How convenient."_

"_I mean seriously, check this out '_The mass of the Great Pyramid is 557t greater than that of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Stone Henge has a mass of 2695t which is 95t less than the Leaning Tower of Pisa. There once was a Greater Pyramid which had a mass twice that of the Great Pyramid. What was the mass of the Greater Pyramid?_'. I mean, what the fuck is that? Why do I need to know the mass of a Greater Pyramid? Why do we need to be calculating all that shit in the first place?" _

_Rachel smiles, continues to laughs. "I must admit that's a bit advanced for Suzie's age, isn't it?"_

"_Yeah, I thought so, too, but apparently Suzie's good at this. The teacher's giving her extra homework and is suggesting she take more advanced classes. Which of course means I have to help solve the stupid math problems," Santana says, shuddering. "I mean, my god, she's already enough of a geek as it is!"_

"_Hey, math can be fun," Rachel points out. _

"_No wonder you were slushied so much in high school!" Santana says._

"_Hey! I'll have you know McKinley was champion in our district three years in a row during the Math Olympics because of me," Rachel says. _

"_Whatever, you were still being slushied, honey," Santana smirks. "Oh, this is my favorite, Rach,_ 'Helen has 2 inches of hair cut off each time she goes to the hair salon. If _h_ equals the length of hair before she cuts it and _c_ equals the length of hair after she cuts it, which equation would you use to find the length of Helen's hair after she visit the hair salon?'…_What the hell, Rach, why would anyone spend that time trying to find out the equation to finding out the length of someone's hair after they visit the salon? Who writes this shit? I seriously think the people who write this never get laid and are taking it out on us!"_

_Rachel laughs some more. "Ah, my girlfriend, always the paragon of logic and common sense." She is silent on the other line for a few seconds then she says, "__Fine. Send me the questions online, I'll go over them while I talk to you."_

"_Thanks, honey. You're the best."_

"_I know. You know, I could think of a cheaper way for us to help with Suzie's homework so you don't keep calling me at all hours of the night to help with math problems. This will also solve our more…" and here she clears her throat… "Intimate problems."_

_Santana laughs. "What?"_

"_Let's just move in together."_

_It is a simple, elegant solution. Santana does not know why it surprises her into complete silence though. The silence on the other line stretches for what seems like forever. After what seems like ages, Santana clears her throat and says, "So, how about those Math problems, huh?"_

* * *

Santana stands by the side of the Thames River, watching boats slowly make their way down the river, leaving other boats in their wake. A few passersby have stopped, just like her, to watch boats make their way down the river. Quite a few kids are playing soccer (_Football_, she corrects herself, as that is how they call the sport here.), a couple of dog owners are walking their dogs, young and old couples strolling beside the river. A few are feeding the pigeons on the cobbled stoned pavement.

* * *

"_It's just a routine surgery, San," Rachel says that time she broke the news to Santana about the results of the check-up and the surgery. "Nothing to write home about."_

"_Honey, are you sure it's nothing serious?" Santana says, as she holds Rachel in her arms. For some strange reason, she feels a familiar fear creeping through her being. There is a coldness forming in her gut that refuses to go away. She has started feeling this the day Rachel says she has gone to the doctor for a routine medical check-up a few weeks ago and the doctor says there is something wrong with her throat. Rachel explains to her it is a common enough problem amongst professional singers, nothing a little surgery will correct. Santana is annoyed it has taken her this long to tell her she has a problem with her throat and needs surgery. Rachel says she did not want Santana to worry._

"_It's not…" and here Santana feels a lump in her throat form, as she whispers, barely choking back a sob, "It's not cancer is it?"_

"_Santana, no," Rachel replies, rolling her eyes at her. "Stop watching your mom's Spanish telenovelas! They're making you too overly melodramatic. Although I must admit they're kind of highly addictive…"_

"_Rach, I'm serious," Santana says. _

"_And San, I'm serious, too," Rachel says, exasperated. "It's a hemorrhaged throat. Not a cyst or anything. It happens to people who sing too much, okay? I'll be fine."_

"_Why didn't you tell me this before now?" Santana asks. _

_Rachel sighs. "What, am I talking to myself here?" She smiles. "It's not serious, so I didn't tell you, okay? I didn't want you to worry. You already have your hands full with your case and Suzie and everything else as it is."_

"_Do you want me to come to the hospital with you?" _

_Rachel shakes her head. "No need. My dads are coming, so they'll keep me company. I'll be on bed rest after the surgery, and that doesn't need much. You don't need to come. The doctor just told me no singing til after six months or so."_

"_No singing for six months or so?" Santana asks, smiling. She tries her best to convey mock horror as she says, "However will you survive?"_

_Rachel rolls her eyes, grins at her. "Shut up."_

_Santana pulls her towards herself, hugs her as tightly as she can, but for some strange reason, she kind of already feels like Rachel is slipping away, like she is losing her. She feels a heaviness settle in her stomach, a wave of sadness wash over her. She cannot go through this again. She just cannot. She does not think she will ever survive another like this…_

* * *

The sun has disappeared behind dark, gray clouds. A cool breeze flows from the river. Santana pulls her coat towards herself. The wind blows wisps of her dark hair all over her face. She runs her hand through her hair, pushes the wisps of hair away from her face. She looks out over the river. She wishes the river could provide the answer she is looking for. She stands there for what seems like hours, watching the breeze play with the ripples on the water. She watches how the water laps against the shore and how the boats thunder through the river, cutting a path of ripples on the surface. She watches the people on the boat, notes how happy they seem, pointing at nothing in particular, laughing, joking. The people around her, the passersby, the kids playing soccer, the people taking a lazy late morning stroll, the people feeding those blasted pigeons…they all seem happy.

She wishes it were all that easy. To be that happy. To be as happy as they all are.

She sighs.

* * *

"_London?" Santana asks blankly, as she pulls her head away from Rachel, wondering if she heard her right. _

"_Yes, London," Rachel says carefully. _

_Santana extricates herself from their embrace, plops down on her back beside Rachel, stares up at the ceiling, watching shadows play on it. She is silent for a few minutes. _

"_So you got the part?" She finally asks. _

"_Yeah," Rachel answers. "It was a pretty grueling audition process. The director's this brilliant, egomaniacal guy who's made a career out of helping actors eventually move on to the BAFTA and the Oscars. It's a great opportunity to work with him. I'm really excited. Plus the playwright is this award-winning guy fresh off another critically acclaimed West End play."_

_Rachel talks in that excited, chipper, nervous way she does, like in high school, when she knows she has done something wrong but will not admit it. _

"_So you're going to London then?"_

"_Only for six months," Rachel says. "Then I'm back here in the States before you know it."_

_Santana thinks about it for a while. Rachel turns on her side, puts her hand on Santana's stomach, slowly rubs it. Santana puts her left arm under Rachel's head and pulls her toward her, kisses her forehead. _

"_Why though?" Santana suddenly asks. _

"_Why what?" Rachel asks back. _

"_Why London? Why this play? Why now?" Santana asks. "Are you even sure you're fully recovered to perform?"_

_She feels Rachel shrug. "I've always wanted to try performing somewhere else other than Broadway. I mean…I've been there since forever. I thought it was something I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I thought it was _all_ I ever wanted. As it turns out, it's not. I kind of just…woke up one day and realized it wasn't anymore."_

_Santana is silent, thoughtful, as Rachel continues, " I mean I thought I'd be with Finn forever when we were in high school…" – here Santana snorts – " but that has changed…I mean I never imagined I'd be with you, of all people."_

"_Hey," Santana says, mock hurt in her voice. "You say that like it's a bad thing."_

_Rachel laughs. "You know what I mean. And anyway, this play on West End? It's nothing I've ever read before. There's no singing or dancing or props or whatever, just…raw emotion and just…feelings. It's really exciting. I mean I thought I'd never sing again, but the doctor says I still can, but I don't want to risk it right now. It kind of made me realize maybe I should try something else, you know? Maybe there's more to life than Broadway?"_

"_You know Kurt will probably die of shock when he hears you say that, right?" _

_Rachel smiles. "He'll understand."_

_Santana sighs. _

"_I'm only mentioning it now because I wanted you to know," Rachel says. She moves over on top of Santana, rests her chin on her fists and asks her, "Is it okay with you?"_

_Santana is silent. "Do you really want to go?"_

_Rachel shrugs. "Well, it's professional validation. I mean…I have…new things here…but I don't know how they'll…pan out…"_

_Santana thinks about this for a moment. "It's a pretty big thing to pass up."_

"_I know." For some strange reason, Rachel looks a bit disappointed, hearing Santana's response._

"_Is this what you really want?"_

_Rachel sighs. "I want to give it a try."_

_Santana looks at her. "Okay."_

_Rachel smiles. She leans over, plants her lips on Santana's, softly kisses her, caressing her lips with her tongue. Santana's hands come up, cup Rachel's face in her hands. Rachel moves her whole body on top of Santana's. She continues to kiss Santana. _

"_I love you, San," Rachel says, softly, to Santana._

_Santana stops, swallows, smiles and kisses Rachel back, her arms snaking through Rachel's waist as she pulls her towards her._

* * *

Santana feels cold now, looks up at the sky and thinks it is going to rain. She realizes it is noon now, and feels her stomach rumble from the hunger. She heads to one of the booths that sell sandwiches, whips out her wallet to pay the amount and stops when she sees a picture, in her wallet, that of her and Rachel and Suzie, that day on the beach, so long ago.

It is the same picture Rachel has on her bedside table.

She pays for her sandwich and starts to eat it. She pulls up the collar of her shirt and decides to head back to the flat.

She thinks about that picture as she eats her sandwich. Remembers that day like it was yesterday.

Maybe she has been going about this the wrong way….

Maybe…could it be…? She wonders.

Maybe it _is_ as easy as everyone is saying it is.

Halfway through on her way to the flat, it begins to rain. Santana begins to jog, chucks what is left of the sandwich in the garbage bin, feels the rain against her hair, her face, her hands, the back of her neck. What starts out as light rain has now turned into a downpour. She curses this blasted English weather as she fumbles for the keys to the entrance to the row of flats. She curses to herself as she realizes that she is soaking wet from the rain.

* * *

_Santana remembers that day very clearly:_

_It is late afternoon. The sun is setting in the sky, sending explosions of orange, red and pink on the horizon. Seagulls fly around the sky lazily. A few people walk along the beach. A pleasant breeze blows from the sea. _

_Rachel has taken Suzie to the beach. Rachel holds Suzie's hand, as they walk barefoot on the beach. Suzie laughs, jumps up and down when the surf meets her little toes. She clings to Rachel as she stoops and scoops up a shell, shows it to Rachel for inspection, and puts it in the pink plastic bucket Rachel holds. _

_Santana watches from a distance, unnoticed, as she leans on her car. She has just come from work. Managed to leave the office early. She is here to pick up Rachel and her daughter. She wants to enjoy this moment ._

_Rachel is wearing a nice white floral dress and a hat. Suzie is wearing baby blue overalls and a hat just like Rachel's. A breeze coming from the sea sweeps up Rachel's skirt , makes it flutter against the breeze. Rachel looks up to the sky, faces the sun, holds her hat to her head and closes her eyes. Suzie stops, as well. _

_Rachel looks beautiful in the afternoon light of the setting sun. The light plays on her smooth skin, makes it glow. _

_As Santana starts to walk towards them, Rachel seems to sense her, opens her eyes, turns and when she spots Santana, breaks into the sweetest smile Santana has ever seen. _

_Santana realizes then, that day, that she can love Rachel forever…._

* * *

**_Author's note: Thanks for reading! This is my version of a one-shot fluff, told in five chapters or less. There will be a chapter or a couple more and then this story is done. But worry not, _****_as I'm fascinated with exploring relationships and human emotions within stories,_** so Santana, Rachel and Suzie may be back for another story I have brewing **_(barring work, writer's block, power cuts and floods)_**. 

**_As always, kind reviews are welcome. _**

**_Thanks to the readers who have taken the time to review the previous chapters. It's been, as always, very encouraging._**

**_Thanks also to homeschoolmath dot net for the math._**

**_And, DragonsWillFly – you know the drill. _:) _Many thanks for the support and for going over each and every chapter with a fine-toothed comb. _:) _Wouldn't have done it without you and the steam-powered dragons you keep in your cellar _:-).**


	4. Chapter 4

Santana pushes the door to the flat with her shoulder as she twists the key into the knob. She shivers from the cold. She cannot wait to get out of her wet clothes. She is wet all over and she does not like it. She is soaked even in places she never knew existed.

She drops the keys in a bowl near the door, as she starts getting out of her shoes, and peeling away her clothes. She starts with her jacket, then her blouse, revealing a white tank top. She is about to peel off her tight jeans (cursing both the suspicion that she may have gained weight and that the jeans Levi's is manufacturing these days are not fit for and are too tight for human consumption) when she realizes that someone else is in the room. She realizes this when she has pulled her jeans down to her thighs.

She looks up and sees Rachel looking out of the window, across the room, in the living room, watching something outside, arms crossed in front of her, silent and unmoving.

Santana clears her throat. Tries to pull her jeans up, but finds that it is stuck on her thighs. She curses under her breath as she tugs again at her jeans and manages to pull it part way to her waist.

"Hey," she says.

Rachel does not look at or respond to her. She just continues to look out of the window. She is silent and does not make a move to speak.

Santana fumbles to button up her jeans, moves to the couch, sits on the arm rest and waits for Rachel to speak. When she does not, Santana says, "I thought you were at work, rehearsing."

Rachel is silent. Then she says, not turning to look at Santana, "I called in sick. Said I had a problem with my throat, so."

Santana does not know what to say, so she just stays where she is, waiting for Rachel to speak. She has known Rachel long enough to know that if she is being this quiet and pensive, she has something extremely serious on her mind. Santana is a bit nervous. These things never end well.

"The show is going to be extended," Rachel says flatly, softly, continuing to look out at the River Thames.

The rains have stopped. The pale glow of the afternoon sun bathes the room in muted light. Rachel looks beautiful in her blouse and short skirt. Santana finds herself catching her breath when she sees her, and thanks her lucky stars this gorgeous woman is her girlfriend.

Santana's heart sinks though at the mention of her show being extended. This means Rachel's stay in London will be extended too. Speechless, all she can say is, "Oh."

"Yeah. I think it's actually going on tour. Wales, Scotland, Ireland…" Rachel continues.

Santana is quiet for a moment as she considers what to say next. Finally, she says, "Are you taking it?"

Rachel does not move, is silent, continues to look out at the river. Santana wishes she would look at her. "I don't know," Rachel answers. She pauses, then says, "There's really no reason not to."

"Oh." Santana's heart sinks further. There's a hurt, a pain inside her that flickers at the thought of Rachel being away from her any bit longer. She feels mildly hurt that Rachel says there is no reason not to accept the offer. It feels like a stab in the heart. She feels the tears well up, but tries to quell them down, tries to push the hurt down. She is unable to speak.

"It's a really good role…" Rachel continues. "There are other projects being offered as well…"

There's a lump in Santana's throat. The hurt deepens and it takes supreme effort for her not break down and cry right then and there. She feels weak, powerless, like she has been drained of all energy and will.

"So I'll probably have to stay longer here," Rachel says.

Santana bites her lower lip. She is quiet, afraid to speak. The lump on her throat gets bigger. The pain in her chest grows stronger. Santana bows her head, looks at a point between her feet.

"It's probably for the best, anyway," Rachel says now. "I mean, Santana…I don't think…I don't think…this…us…"

"Rachel…" Santana's voice breaks, feels her heart twist in pain. She cannot believe her ears.

"I mean, I know maybe I've put too much pressure on you," Rachel says. "Maybe I'm pushing too hard. I know it's been hard for you and I understand that…"

"Rachel," Santana says again. She can feel her heart beating fast, can feel her hands grow clammy, can feel them shake.

"Maybe I want too much, San," Rachel says. "Maybe I'm asking too much. And it's unfair for you. Maybe we need this…some space…see if this is what we really want…what we both want…"

Santana cannot stop it then, the tears that flow freely down her face. They come unbidden, falling silently, as she tries to control the sobs that threaten to overwhelm her.

"Rachel," she says, voice broken, lost, defeated, "Please…please don't…"

There is something in Santana's voice that makes Rachel turn, eyes impassive, expressionless, gazing at Santana sitting by the arm rest of the couch, back shaking from sobs.

"What?" Rachel asks.

"Don't." Santana chokes, cannot breathe, feels like she cannot go on, like the words have piled up behind her throat, waiting to get out, but cannot. She feels afraid that if Rachel will say something else, something final, irrevocable, she will break into a little million pieces, break into fragments that she cannot put back together again. It is now or never, she realizes, and she knows that if she does not say now all the things she should have said in the past, she will never have a chance again. She takes a deep breath, trembles, nervous, tries to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"Rach, I know I said I'll never get in the way of your dreams, and that I'll never stifle you and I support you all the way and I get why you're doing it and I'm really proud of you. Proud of what you've become and what you can still become, and I want to be there when you win your first Tony and your BAFTA and your Oscar, but the house feels so empty without you and I've missed you so much, okay?" she says, all in one breath, voice shaking. She tries to speak, but she feels sobs wrack her body again and she takes a deep breath, tries to calm herself down, and through her tears she can see Rachel just looking at her.

"And I know I've been a jerk and I'm sorry about that. I just…when you had your surgery..I freaked out, okay? I can't…I can't deal with losing someone like that again. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. I just _found_ you," Santana continues. She wipes the tears from her eyes, curses herself for this inability to control her emotions. Curses herself for being so damn vulnerable right now, in front of the one woman she realizes she cannot live without. "I love you, okay? I don't say it so much, don't say it _at all_, but I do. Before you came into my life, I didn't think I could again…"

"When I'm not with you, I feel lost. When you're with me, I feel like life makes sense. Like everything is _right_. Like everything's going to be _alright_." Santana swallows, bows her head, presses her hands on her thighs, rubs them up and down, as if doing so would erase whatever words Rachel had said before. "And I don't usually say so many words, _like_ to express so few words, but do you get it at all?...Can you just…come home?"

Rachel is silent. She does not speak. The room is silent. All they can hear is the hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the living room clock, muffled noises from the other flats, distant noises down the street, the river.

This is the longest that Santana has ever spoken, three years of unspoken feelings coming out in one breath. She feels spent, shattered, like she has been bled dry. But at the same time, she feels relieved…relieved that all those unexpressed feelings, of love and hope and fear and doubts and insecurities, have been said. She feels freer somehow. Santana knows she has no control from then on about whatever decision Rachel makes, but at least she has said what she needed to say. Her heart has not stopped pounding against her chest, the pain in her chest dull and aching. Her heart is pounding so loudly she could swear Rachel can hear it.

Santana continues to stare at the carpeted floor.

She feels Rachel move, walk towards her, muffled footsteps coming nearer. She can see feet, legs and part of her thighs covered by her short, short skirt covering Santana's field of vision. She does not look up.

She feels fingers brush her cheeks, then a finger come under her chin, tilt her chin so that Santana is looking into Rachel's deep, dark, intense eyes. There is sadness in Rachel's eyes, but also understanding, compassion, _love_. Rachel gazes at Santana with that unmistakable look of love that Santana knows Rachel only has for her, and only for her.

Rachel is silent.

For what seems like ages, they gaze at each other, as if learning each other's features, and by extension, each other's real feelings.

Finally, Rachel leans over and kisses Santana.

"You won't lose me," Rachel whispers, as she kisses Santana again. "You never have. You never will."

Fresh tears flow down Santana's cheeks again. Rachel's kisses her cheeks, then moves to her lips. Santana tastes tears on her lips, wet and slippery and salty. "I thought I had everything, then I realized I didn't," Rachel whispers. "Then I realized, if I have you, I have everything. You're everything to me, San, don't you know that? You're my everything."

Santana exhales a sigh of relief, as she kisses Rachel again. "My god, you are cheesy," she manages to say, smiling.

Rachel laughs softly. "I'm so sorry, San. I'm sorry I put you through all this. I thought you didn't want this…I'm sorry…I just…I just want to come home, now. I just want to be with you."

"What about West End?" Santana asks.

Rachel shakes her head. "Screw 'em. I'm done with the metric system, the words that sound English but aren't, the driving on the wrong side of the road…everything."

Santana laughs.

"There are a lot of things I thought I wanted," Rachel says, "I always thought all I wanted to do was sing, but that has changed. I thought all I ever wanted to do was Broadway, then West End, but that has changed. But the one thing I know I want that hasn't changed, is you, San. I'd never wanted anyone like I wanted you. I love you San."

* * *

Later, they find themselves in their bedroom, carefully peeling away each other's clothing, all shy and nervous, a quiet peace and happiness settling all over them. As she lies naked with Rachel beneath her, in the soft light of the afternoon sun, Santana runs her fingers gently on her, enjoying every curve and crevice of Rachel's smooth body, like she has just discovered her, like she is rediscovering her. The tender afternoon sunlight behind them makes Rachel's dark, wavy hair glisten and glow. Her dark eyes are gentle, loving, trusting. Santana is amazed at how they fit perfectly, Rachel and her, like pieces of a puzzle, pieces that have always belonged together, pieces that have lost and have now found each other. Santana sometimes wonders why it took them this long to find each other, when they have lived under each other's noses all throughout their lives.

Rachel puts her hands on Santana's face, cups her face in her hands, pulls her towards herself, places her lips on Santana's. Rachel's lips are soft and gentle on her own, kisses feathery and light.

Santana kisses her carefully, reverently, as if she is made of glass, inhaling springtime on her skin. She imagines fields of spring flowers, gold and crimson and green, and spring rain and blue, blue sky. They make love slowly, tenderly, like they have all the time in the world, and when Rachel tells her, "I love you", Santana says it back, over and over and over again. Her kisses are deliberate. They are a promise, a vow, unspoken, of complete surrender and trust, like no matter what happens, there will be always be this one truth: she loves Rachel and Rachel loves her and nothing else matters…

* * *

_**Author's note: Again, I cannot thank you awesome readers enough for reading this. Thank you. Your kind reviews are, as always appreciated. We will have one more chapter, and this story is done.**_

_**DragonsWillFly – Margaret Cho called, she says you're awesome. :) Thank you always for lending your ears …just when I needed it the most. :) This chapter has benefited from your input! Thank you.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's note: Dear readers, we have come to the end of this story. Many thanks for sticking with this story and this 'verse. And since you've stayed with me this long…here…have some fluff…**_

* * *

Santana looks out of the window and into the sunny early morning London sky. The sky is bright and blue and illuminates the room with a warm glow, chasing the lingering shadows of the night away. The sprawling river Thames begins to sparkle in the sun. London is taking its waking slow today, a lazy Sunday summer morning in August. The window gives her a good view of London, but where before there was only the boring, gloomy outline of a skyline that only reminded her of the distance, the space between Rachel and her, what she sees now is the promise of a new day…what she feels now is an atmosphere electric with possibilities and hope.

Rachel sleeps soundly on their bed, naked and beautiful in sleep as in waking, gorgeous lips forming a small pleased smile, echoes of what Santana can only imagine is a nice dream, on her sleeping face, dark lustrous hair spread out on the pillow, skin bathed in the soft light of the summer morning sun. Rachel is a deep sleeper, her chest rising and falling evenly with each breath, not noticing that Santana has already left her side, is sitting by the windowsill watching her sleeping. A scar, remnants of the surgery Rachel had almost a year ago, sits like a butterfly on her throat, and suddenly, Santana wants to go back to her, run her fingers over her smooth skin, kiss her, make love to her, but she wants Rachel to sleep some more, wants to watch her sleeping, wants to enjoy this moment, wants to remember the shape of Rachel lying on their bed. They have spent the night talking, making plans, making love, talking some more, giggling and whispering into each other's ears, gazing into each other's eyes, overcome, overwhelmed with love for each other. There have been many nights like this since that day when Santana had finally told her she loved her. It feels like a long overdue honeymoon, and Santana intends to enjoy every minute of it.

Since Rachel has finished her contract with "Saturn Returned", turning down the offer for a tour and an extended run on the play, she has had much more time with Santana and Suzie, much to the delight of the two and the eternal stupefaction of everyone else: the people she works with at West End, critics, her parents, even Kurt. Save for Poppy, who knows the real reason for what seems to be an almost sudden, impulsive decision to turn her back on her burgeoning West End career, nobody knows the real reason for her decision, although since she is not a movie star, and the British tabloids would much prefer to dish the dirt on movie stars than on Broadway turned West End stars, she enjoys a relatively paparazzi-free existence – much to the relief of her stressed out agent and publicist. Poppy seems to take losing Rachel as a boss particularly well, although she indicates a vague dejection at seeing Rachel go. In her words, Rachel is the least diva-esque of most of the people she has worked with, something Santana still cannot believe sometimes: that the Rachel she knows from high school would turn out to be one of the more well-adjusted alumni of McKinley High's Glee Club.

Poppy has enjoyed working with Rachel, but would not mind doing something else entirely. She does however, offer to show the three in and around London, and also offers to babysit Suzie should they be so inclined. Santana and Rachel are grateful for this and Santana grudgingly admits that Poppy, though possessed of the crippling habit of being too annoyingly cheery and being too British, can grow on a person if and when given the chance. Santana realizes this can be said of London as well.

Santana reluctantly admits that though London can sometimes be said to be too snobbish and highbrow even for her Ohio-born Latina self, it can grow on a person, despite the more incomprehensible aspects of its life, such as the arts events that she finds herself being dragged to, by Rachel, who insists Santana must marinate a bit in the culture and arts scene of London. And while she curses the complicity with which Poppy and Suzie have agreed to this, she admits their stay in London has had its moments.

* * *

_They are at a performance art show._

_They are sitting in the front row._

_There is a man, on stage, barefoot and naked save for skimpy, white briefs, brandishing a hose in front of him like a sword._

_This is one of those moments when Rachel is showing her the art and culture that the city has to offer. They have come to Paul's boyfriend's show (or as she likes to call him, "Rumpletiltskin" and "Unmade Bed")._

_For a few minutes, nothing happens. The theater is silent, everyone waiting for what will happen next._

_Finally, Santana leans over and whispers, "What the hell are those funny faces he's making? He looks constipated." As the man stamps his foot on the wooden floor, creating a loud, hollow sound that echoes throughout the theater, she whispers, "He looks like you when you sing."_

_"I look constipated when I sing?" Rachel whispers back, brows knitted in curiosity._

_"Errr…" Santana hesitates, briefly, wondering if saying yes would mean no sex tonight. "No."_

_Rachel smiles. "Good answer," she says. "Else someone is not getting any tonight."_

_They are quiet._

_"You look like that, too, sometimes, when you sing," Rachel says, after a beat._

_Santana rolls her eyes, leans over again and asks her again what the hell is going on, nothing is happening._

_Rachel says it is because she does not know culture._

_Santana replies, "It's because I have taste."_

_Rachel says, "It's pretty groundbreaking. This piece is the artist's social and artistic protest against the dehumanizing effects of the postmodern, post-industrial, internet age of mass culture that has homogenized the individual."_

_Santana tries to concentrate but the man really looks like the only emotion he can convey is constipation. He looks ridiculous with a hose in his hands._

_Presently he grunts and paint explodes from the hose and lands squarely on Santana's blouse._

_It takes Santana a few seconds to recover from the surprise, but once she does, she springs from her chair, says, "Puta madre!" and lunges for the artist's throat._

_It takes supreme effort from Rachel, "Unmade Bed" Paul and a couple of audience members to pull Santana away from the cowering terrified artist._

* * *

_They are at a book signing._

_Santana does not know why they have to do this, but Rachel insists it is part of her mission to show Santana around the art scene in the city._

_Santana leans over to Rachel and whispers, "I don't know why we have to sit here and listen to this guy read passages from his smutty book, when we can just go home and explore the many ways in which we can use handcuffs, ropes and blindfolds."_

_Rachel blushes. "Santana…"she chides her._

_Santana grins. "Although no, I still don't want_ 'Barbara Streisand'_ as our safe word… "_

* * *

_They are at a concert._

_"What is this shit?" Santana whisper asks._

_"It's music."_

_"He sounds like a cat in heat mating with a hyena."_

_"Okay, what does that even mean? That doesn't make sense."_

_"Honey, I thought they just operated on your throat. Did they damage your hearing or something too?"_

_"Do you want to sleep on the couch, tonight?"_

_"Are you threatening me?"_

_"Do you really want to go there?"_

_"No."_

_There is a momentary silence. Santana folds her arms in front of her, sulking._

_"I still think it's not music," Santana says._

_"It's art."_

_"It's crap."_

_Rachel sniffs, shakes her head._

_After a few minutes, Santana speaks again. "I sing better than he does. I could sing circles around him. I could sing a song for you now if you want."_

_Rachel turns to her then, eyes bright and shining._

_"Sing me a song then."_

_Santana stops, embarrassed. "I mean, not right now…"_

* * *

Santana recalls these and other things they have done in London, recalling the days spent with Suzie, visiting Tower Hill, Buckingham Palace, Westminster, Parliament and a few other places they haven't been, shopping at Harrod's, taking snapshots like there is no tomorrow, buying souvenirs like they are running out of stock. Sometimes Poppy is with them, showing them around. Twice, Poppy drives them around the English country side in her old beat-up Volkswagen, making their way through roads that cut a swath through endless fields and rolling plains of emerald grass lined with trees and shrub.

The English countryside is beautiful, although sometimes, it reminds Santana of a trip from Ohio to California: fields upon fields of corn, wheat, barley and nothing else, punctuated by the occasional barn, cow, petrol station, tumbleweed.

And yet Santana loves these, if only for the moments when they stop beneath the shade of a massive oak tree and have a proper English picnic, with biscuits and tea with milk, and sitting on the grass, Rachel sitting primly, daintily drinking from her tea cup, the wind in the leaves playing with her hair, the sky's deep light playing on her face, Santana is seized with love and joy, of perfect peace, for Rachel being with her, Rachel and Suzie, her perfect family. Santana realizes then, how complete her life is with the only two people she will ever need by her side.

Later, on their way to a Carvery for some turkey, ham, vegetables and cranberry sauce, Rachel, still and calm by the light of the color of the dying sun, reminds Santana of the one song, the only song she can think of, when she thinks of Rachel.

She hates that it is the song that keeps playing in her head. And of course, it just _has_ to be a British song by a British singer. Damn you, Quinn! she thinks to herself.

_It's a little bit funny…_

_This feeling inside…_

And she hears this song in her head, whenever she sees Rachel. It is corny, it is cheesy, it is the most embarrassing song she has ever heard, but she cannot help but hear it whenever Rachel enters a room or whenever she looks at Rachel.

She hasn't heard a song play in her head, heard herself sing a song in her head, since Brittany. It's strange but elating to finally hear a song again after such a long time.

_I know it's not much but it's the best I can do  
My gift is my song and this one's for you_

She hears the song in her head everywhere now, as they spend the remaining weeks they have in London together before they all go back to the U.S. As the days blink into each other, Santana gathers memories and moments with Rachel, drunk with summer sunshine and happiness.

_You can tell everybody this is our song…_

_It may be quite simple but, now that it's done…_

Even when Santana is doing something mundane with Rachel, she can still hear the song playing…

Rachel stirs on the bed now, breaking Santana's reverie. A grin slowly spreads on Santana's face, as she comes up to the bed, plops down on it, leans over and kisses Rachel awake.

Rachel slowly opens her eyes, takes her waking slow, rubs fingers to eyes, bleary eyes opening, blinks once, twice, before her gaze focuses on Santana and a smile breaks on her face.

"Hey," Rachel says, instinctively moving over to Santana, hands reaching for Santana's face, nape.

Santana continues to smile, allows herself to be pulled into Rachel's arms, kisses her openly, lovingly.

"You're up unconscionably early," Rachel murmurs into the kiss. "Good morning."

Santana shrugs, just kisses her, murmurs the greeting back, then moves into the bed, wrapping her arms on Rachel. Rachel's arms snake into Santana's waist, pulls her closer, holds her like she's never letting go. She tangles her legs into Santana's and it's so intimate that Santana cannot help but sigh with contentment. Rachel has her head on Santana's shoulder, her forehead brushing Santana's cheek.

They do not speak, are silent for what seems like heart beats that stretch on to forever. Every once in a while, Santana kisses Rachel's forehead.

"I couldn't sleep," Santana says, finally.

"Yeah?" Rachel asks, voice muffled in Santana's neck.

Santana shivers as she feels Rachel's breath on her neck.

"You'll laugh," Santana says.

"What?"

"Well, I kind of woke up early because… I didn't really want to miss any more moments with you," she says, "I didn't want to miss a thing."

Rachel laughs. "Okay."

Santana laughs, as well. "I told you you'd laugh."

They are silent. A knock on the door breaks the silence.

"Hey, mom! Rachel!" Suzie's voice comes through the door. "Are you guys up? I'm hungry!"

Santana groans. "My daughter, the pest."

Rachel hits her lightly on the arm. "Hey, be nice."

The voice behind the door is quiet, then the knocks come louder. "Mom! Rachel! Get _up_! I know you guys are up!"

"Ugh," Santana says. "Make her go away."

"She's your daughter," Rachel says, grinning.

"No, she's not," Santana says. "She's so totally yours. That diva attitude can only come from one place."

"Hey," Rachel says, mock hurt in her voice. "That's not nice."

Santana chuckles.

Rachel hugs her tightly. "We should probably get up now. Or Suzie'll throw a fit."

Santana nods. "Yeah, yeah, yeah…"

No one makes a move to get up.

When the knock comes again, Santana says, "Alright, alright, we're up! We're up."

When they reluctantly dress and open the door to a Suzie smiling widely, Santana rolls her eyes, rubs Suzie's head and says, "We're up, we're up. You are such a pest. We're making breakfast now."

"Great!" Suzie says, skipping off to the kitchen.

But before she gets there, she skips back to them and gives Rachel a quick hug, a murmured good morning, before she goes to the kitchen again.

"Hey, how come I don't get a hug?" Santana asks, pretending to be hurt.

Suzie shrugs.

Santana rolls her eyes.

* * *

As Rachel makes pancakes and Santana makes coffee and hot chocolate for Suzie, Santana smiles every time she catches Rachel's eyes, makes a move to touch her arms, or her waist or shoulder. Rachel smiles back, shyly, before she turns back to the task at hand.

The looks they give each other are not lost on Suzie as she watches them from the high chair on the kitchen counter. The television has been turned on in the living room and is being conveniently ignored. A radio in the kitchen is turned on, and is playing some old songs.

Finally, after watching them exchange glances for a few moments, Suzie says, "You guys totally did it last night, didn't you?"

Santana turns to Suzie, shocked and incredulous. "What? No. What?"

Rachel only laughs.

Suzie stares at her mother, intently. "Yeah,you did. You have that smile on your face, mom. I only see you smile like that when Rachel is around," she says. "And _only_ when Rachel is around."

Santana feels a slow blush spread on her face. Rachel just smiles. Santana glares at her. Rachel shrugs, leans over and kisses her and whispers, "Out of the mouths of babes."

"This is all your fault," Santana mutters. "You insisted we teach her the birds and the bees."

Rachel shrugs.

"The rest of the time, you're cranky," Suzie points out, oblivious to the exchange between the two women. "That's why I like Rachel. She's the only one who makes you _not_ cranky."

Rachel grins at Suzie. "Did I ever tell you you're my favorite person in the whole wide universe?" Rachel asks her, as she leans over and kisses Suzie's blonde head.

"Yup. I know," Suzie says, matter-of-factly. "You guys should just totally get married already. I wouldn't mind."

Santana shoves the cup of hot chocolate in front of Suzie and quickly says, "Here, have some hot choco."

When she sees Rachel with a plate of pancakes, she grabs them from her and quickly sets them in front of Suzie. "Here, have some pancakes, too."

"Do you want me to shut up, mom?" Suzie asks, smiling.

"Ugh, yes, already!" Santana says, hand to her forehead, shaking her head. "My daughter is evil," she says, turning to Rachel.

Rachel chuckles.

Suzie smiles. "I love you, mom."

Despite her initial embarrassment, Santana smiles, leans over and kisses Suzie on the forehead. "I love you, too, honey."

Suzie digs into her pancakes, pops a slice into her mouth, stops, swallows, then says, "I love you, too, Rachel."

Rachel stops, looks back at Suzie from her vantage point by the stove and smiling, says, "Love you, too, Suziekins."

Suzie grins.

Suddenly, the radio plays Elton John's "Your Song". Santana's head jerks up.

"Hey, I like this song," Suzie says. "Can you turn it up please?"

Santana moves to turn the volume up, but Rachel beats her to it.

As the first strains of the melody play, everyone is silent, then Santana looks at Rachel, does not speak for a moment, then as Elton John starts singing, she starts to sing along, voice deep and low and scratchy from years of disuse and Rachel stops, looks at her, and a slow smile spreads on her face as she listens to Santana singing,

"_It's a little bit funny…this feeling inside…"_

* * *

**_Author's note: _**

**_Again, many thanks to everyone for taking the time to read this story. Kind reviews are encouraged and will be much appreciated. _**

**_DragonsWillFly - thank you as always for your kind words and assistance with this chapter. _:-)**

**_Grateful acknowledgement is given to Elton's John's "Your Song", Theodore Roethke's poem "I Take My Waking Slow" and Barry Tebb's anthology of poetry, "The Real Survivor's Anthology" (Sixties Press, UK, 2006) for the inspiration. _**

**_Santana, Rachel and Suzie will be back soon, so stay tuned for the next installment of this 'verse. _:-)**


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